Chapter Text
You wake up to the same position you feel asleep in, Law’s arms around you holding you to him, cheek pressing into his chest.
In the midst of your grief, you hadn’t really bothered about what you were agreeing to, letting him manhandle you in whatever way he saw fit, but now…
It’s proximity you can’t help but be thankful for, even if the embarrassment it causes you is easily felt with the heat to your face. At the very least, he isn’t awake to see it, and you’re grateful.
“Are you okay?” The suddenness of his question has you jolt for a second before your body freezes up, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “This morning… was a lot.”
You force yourself up, still between his legs but putting a necessary amount of space between you. “Yeah, I’m fine, I don’t know why I reacted like that. It happens, right? Patients have complications.”
“That doesn’t make it something easy to accept,” he assures. “She was all set to go home soon. No one could have predicted a complication to crop up now.”
“I should’ve checked on her every day. I should’ve asked the nurses to let me know if there was even a hint that something had gone wrong. I should’ve made sure that—”
Law’s hands grab your shoulders, turning you towards him. “Don’t do that. Don’t give yourself the blame.”
“If not me, then who? I was her surgeon, I was responsible for her since the day she came into this hospital with heart trouble, and I promised to send her home all fixed up.”
“Never blame yourself for circumstances out of your control. It’s the first thing they teach you in med school, because there’s no way to be a doctor without losing at least one patient.”
This gets you up, gripping the sides of your head. “They say that, and they say that it gets easier, but it doesn’t. So forgive me for the overreaction.”
“Well, you’re right about it being an overreaction.” Your turn to him viciously. “But we all have those, because you’re right, it doesn’t get easier; that doesn’t mean you get to be hard on yourself without consequences.
“You’re not doing this alone. Do you know how many doctors there are in the world, going through the exact same thing every day? I’ll be damned if I let you tear yourself apart over this, because chances are, you might never come back from it. I’m not letting that happen to one of my best surgeons.”
Law isn’t looking at you when he says it, but rather down at his open palms, and you get the feeling he isn’t pulling these words out of nowhere—it seems as though they come from a familiar memory.
You’re about to ask him who it is he lost when he takes his shirt off, stopping your question short. Your eyes take in all of his tattoos now, not having expected so many of them nor just how big they would be.
His fingers trace the large heart across his chest. “He refused to let me know until it was too late to do anything about it. If it wasn’t for my friends, I would’ve dropped out of med school and wasted my life after he died—the one thing he had me promise not to do.”
Fingers twitching by your side, you step towards where he’s now sitting on the sofa normally. You stop in front of him, though he keeps his head down.
“I’m sorry. About what you went through, and for making you worry now. I’m usually better about patient grief, but something about this one just… it set me off.”
Your hand brushes against the tattoo on his left shoulder, noticing the symmetry of everything permanently painted on his skin. He shivers a little at the touch, but relaxes quickly enough that you don’t pull your hand away.
“Those are for him as well,” he clarifies. “Only the DEATH ones are for myself. To remind me what’s at stake every time I treat a patient.”
“I like them,” you tell him, meaning it. They’re quite the sight to behold. “You don’t see a lot of surgeons with tattoos as bold as yours. It’s nice to know things are changing.”
Law looks up at you then, and the reality of you standing between his legs, staring at his shirtless body starts to sink in. With every chance for you to step away, he places a hand on your thigh, the touch furiously hot.
Your hand comes to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. “This might be the worst timing we could have picked. We just put down the ‘sleeping with my boss’ rumours.”
“Which gives us some privacy to do what we want, I think, without being bothered.” The low tone of voice reminds you of the way he spoke to you after driving you to work, and you know standing won’t be easy for much longer.
You move so that you can sit down on his lap. The hand on your thigh moves to your hip, squeezing lightly, and you consider the opportunity in front of you.
With a deep breath in, you move your hands to his face. “I want this, I do, I just… It doesn’t feel right to do this now. Can we wait? Take it slow or come back to this or—”
“It’s not the time. That’s fine. We’re not on a time limit.” He takes one of your hands in his. It settles whatever is twisting and stretching in your stomach. “But I still want to kiss you if you’ll let me.”
“On the condition you never ask me that again,” you smile, closing the distance between you and finally tasting him.
Law’s lips move softly against your own, taking nothing you’re not willing to give him, and it almost makes you laugh at how he’s holding back to ensure you’re setting the pace.
You pull away with a gentle tug to his bottom lip, pushing some of his hair off of his forehead. He throws you a lazy smile, and you’re ashamed to admit how giddy it makes you to see him with an expression like that on his face.
“Okay, I’m going to head back to work before I get fired,” you say, kissing him quickly again before getting up. “I’m on call tonight and I work all day tomorrow and—Well, you know my schedule. What I’m trying to say is, when you can, come over.”
He stands up, shrugging his shirt back on. “I thought you said you wanted to take things slow?” Law teases, which earns him a light kick to the shin. “I hear ya, I hear ya.”
“Thank you again,” you whisper, looping your arms behind his neck, having those grey eyes of his stare right into you, warmth unfurling in your chest. “I don’t know a lot of people that would’ve done what you did.”
“Felt right,” Law shrugs, but you can see the slight flush to his cheeks at the thank you, which makes you want to stay here and tease him with more praise.
He kisses you again for the very obvious smirk you’re wearing, only causing it to widen further as you slowly walk towards the door, still locked together in a loose embrace.
“Okay, get back to work before I have to fire you for slacking on the job. And if you need me, you know where to find me.” He presses one last kiss against your forehead before letting you go.
You give him a small salute as you open the door. “Aye aye, Cap’n.”
Able to finally take a few minutes for yourself after making twice as hard,to make up for the time you were out of commission, you sneak off immediately to the third floor for a glimpse of the newborns.
You aren’t, however, prepared for Nami to be standing outside of the room and peening in with a lazy smile on her face. She spots you easily before you can scamper away.
“Dean,” you say, inclining your head. You decide to be upfront with her. “I shouldn’t have disappeared like that, l apologise. I know one patient passing doesn't—”
“I used to deliver these guys. Such screechers when they come into the world,” she laughs, gaze on the nursery.
You move to stand next to her, sensing you’re safe from a lecture. “I’m surprised you walked away from it, if I'm honest. From what I heard, you were one of the best.”
“‘Cause I actually listened to the people that were pregnant.” She shakes her head, huffing a laugh. “After the first year, I knew I wouldn't be able to do it forever. Why do you think Alabasta has that stupid sign?”
Your eyes widen involuntarily at that confession, not having really considered why the sign had ever been displayed in the first place, especially with the sense it made.
“I’m glad it doesn't get easier,” you say quietly, watching the babies on the other side of the glass. “It shouldn't. The pain of losing a life needs to be remembered.”
Nami only hums her agreement, content to enjoy a moment of silence with you. You’re slightly annoyed at how Law was right about not having to handle things alone, but you're grateful over anything.
She places a hand on your shoulder. “It’ll happen again, but you have a support system here,” she says. “But if it's just Law you need, we'll look away.”
“That obvious, huh?” you groan, less angry than you expected to be.
“He wouldn't help just anyone through an entire hospital to his office like that.”
"I want to clarify, nothing has actually happened.” She raises her brow. “Not yet,” you mutter, conceding your defeat.
She shrugs, already walking away. “Honestly, l thought you guys would've done it by now.”
You stand further away than her family and friends, observing them lower her casket into the ground from a distance.
There’s an unlit cigarette between your fingers. It’s nice to see how loved she was, all the faces that would bring her flowers to her hospital room during her stay.
It doesn’t feel as heavy as you thought it would, and if anything it helps ease the ache in your heart. You’ve been to so many of these, and the emotions they leave you with are different every time.
You place the cigarette in your lips, taking out a lighter and wondering if you want to take it to that final step. With a deep breath, you make your decision.
“Not in front of me,” Law says, taking the lighter from you and placing the cigarette behind his ear. “You can do it in shame with the overworked interns when we’re back at the hospital.”
You frown at him. “You didn’t even know if I was going to light it or not. I hate doctors. Always acting so righteous,” you grumble.
“Oh, trust me, I know you better than you think,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You wanna stay longer, or you ready to get going?”
“We can go. I’ll come back in a few days when no one’s here, make my rounds.”
You’d told him a few days ago that you make your way around a few patient graves now and then, just to remember what’s at stake. He has his tattoos, and you have this.
Law hands you your helmet, pointedly avoiding looking at your grimace; it’s going to take you a while to come around to his motorcycle.
Still, you’re not fighting against getting on it anymore, so at least there’s been some progress. Your arms find a home around his wait, chest flush against his back.
If you could, you’d have your head hidden in his back, but the size of the helmets makes that impossible. It annoys you to no end, but you’ve had no other option than to make your peace with it.
But the thing is, you trust him, just like he pointed out after that first time you rode with him, which means any anger you have about getting on the bike dissipates.
He deposits you safely in front of your apartment as always, smiling at your clear discomfort as you hand him back the helmet to put inside the seat. He pushes his body into your side to dissolve your frown.
“Yeah, yeah, we didn’t die and become a statistic, whatever,” you sigh, letting him take your hand. “Doesn’t make me automatically happy about it. I have a perfectly good car we can drive.”
“Not with those late-ass alarms you have on work days. Motorbike is at least two times faster and lets you slip through traffic. I’d be a terrible Chief if I let my surgeons decide their own starting times,” he points out.
You throw him a fake pout as you wait for the lift. “Can’t you cut me some slack considering you like me and you’re also my boss? You could try for some favouritism.”
“I’m not getting myself a HR violation, thank you.”
“You never do anything I wanna do. You wouldn’t even have sex in the on-call room the other day.”
He smacks a hand over your hand when the lift door opens on your floor so you don’t say anything else embarrassing; it’s on him when you lick his palm in retaliation.
Law mutters something about you being disgusting, though you ignore him in favour of fishing out your keys to the flat. He signed up for this when he kissed you the first time, so he can deal with it.
“Okay I don’t want either of us to get a HR violation,” he rephrases, chin on your shoulder as you move to unlock the door.
“Too bad. I think HR violations are kind of sexy,” you muse, opening the door and toeing off your shoes, leaving him standing and frowning in the entryway.
He locks it shut once he comes in, watching you wander into the kitchen, mulling something over.
You make a list of groceries you need to get soon before moving to wash out the leftover mugs from breakfast and empty tupperware, once again pissed off at your past self for leaving things in the sink.
When you’re done cleaning, you go to ask Law if he wants anything to eat, only to not find him anywhere around you. His shoes are at the door and he’s hung his coat up, so you’re pretty sure he came inside, if only to disappear.
He’s not in the bathroom when you poke your head in, which only leaves the bedroom. Figuring he didn’t sleep well last night, you’re expecting him to be taking a nap.
Law is instead on the rug next to your bed, shirtless, stretching with his ass in the air, meeting your eyes with a smile.
“Is this your way of saying you’re sorry for not having sex with me in the on-call room?”
“No,” he deadpans, switching poses. “Just working out some kinks.”
Son of a bitch.
You tug your own shirt off, rolling your eyes at him and walking towards the bed. “Or you could work out mine instead,” you suggest.
He watches you lie back against the pillows, trying to get comfortable while also looking sexy, which unfortunately isn’t working. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down.
Law resists laughing as he stands up and makes his way over to the bed, hovering over you as he presses a kiss to your lips.
“So, you gonna give me a hint as to these kinks before I have to guess?” he chuckles, letting you run your hand up his waist as you feel the heat radiating off of him.
You answer by tugging the lobe of his right ear with your teeth, biting down harder than you might need to. When you pull away, he’s looking at your grin suspiciously as he tries to figure things out.
Slowly and pointedly, you move your head to the side, baring your neck to him. “I like it when you use your teeth, so go ahead and draw some blood, Doc.”
“You’re crazy,” he says, nipping at the skin you’ve bared to him, relishing in the soft groans it brings out of you. “Complaining about my bike when you would’ve probably invested in leeching two hundred years ago.”
“Oh, it’s my fault that doctors were real weirdos back in the day now?” you argue back, getting him by the neck and pushing him down on the bed, straddling his waist.
Law’s fingers reach up to your throat where there are dark marks blooming. “Yeah, well, if it gets us here… can’t complain, right?” You stare him down. “No, yeah, they were some freaks.”
“How many HIPAA violations do you think they had? Probably more than they even have laws for, right?”
“Are you talking to me about HIPAA before we have sex? Because I gotta be honest, I’ve had better dirty talk.” You stick your tongue out at him for that.
After which, you promptly unclasp your bra, distracting Law from giving a response.
It lands somewhere beyond your sphere of sight, too focused on Law’s reaction to care about anything else. You straighten your back, hands finding purchase on his thighs.
Law’s fingers dance up your leg. “Okay, I guess you don’t really need dirty talk.”
“Didn’t need it to get the Chief in my bed in the first place, did I? Now, are you going to take your trousers off?”
“Aren’t you?” His hips snap up then, forcing you to grab at his chest to steady yourself. “Oh, what, you can tease me but I can’t return the favour?”
“You’re the worst,” you sigh, leaning in to kiss him nevertheless. His hands find your waist, keeping you close as your mouth moves to his jaw, under it, and to the hollow of his throat.
He undoes your trousers easily enough, though it means you briefly have to get off of him to get them out of the way. His own come off too before he pulls you back onto the bed, both of you lying side by side.
Law’s knee slots in between your legs as he tugs one over his hip. You smile against the kiss, bringing one of his hands to your chest. He gets the hint, tugging gently at your nipple.
You groan into his mouth, pushing your thigh against his groin, earning a groan in return. He rolls you onto your back, which lets you pull his length out of his underwear, stroking him slowly as he continues to kiss you with everything he’s got.
Law’s hand moves from your hip to your sex, stroking his fingers against the fabric constraining it. “God I love when you’re excited. Can I take these off?”
“One day I’m going to get you to stop asking these stupid questions,” you say, helping him get them off before going to pull at his own; he grumbles about the difficulty because of the position.
Law brings a finger against your folds, brushing over your clit before he slips one finger in, hooking it gently as he brushes it against your walls. The first night you spent together you couldn’t help but confess how enamoured you were with his hands, and now he makes sure to use them to service you every time.
He watches your head push back into the pillows as you let him take the lead, watching your hand scramble on the nightstand for the lube. He catches it when you throw it, making sure to coat his second digit before he pushes it in alongside the first one.
Your sigh of contentment is loud and unabashed, eyes fluttering closed when his lips move down to nip at your thighs, teeth tugging at the skin there as he remembers you asking him to use them.
Within moments your hand is in his hair, making sure his mouth doesn’t move any further away than it has to. His other hand is pressed against your lower stomach, pushing it down every time it rises in response to the stimulation.
Law sets a steady rhythm with his fingers and tongue, building up the pressure in your core until your nails are digging into his scalp, letting him know you’re getting closer.
So when you pull him off and meet him in the middle, he isn’t expecting it, but he allows you to kiss him deeply before you pull the fingers that were just inside you to your lips, taking them in.
He watches you clean them intently, getting hungrier by the second. Law lets you decide when you’re done, your thumb brushing over his knuckle tattoos when you are.
“You’re not allowed to get rid of these, by the way. I don’t care how far laser technology has come.”
His fingers stay on your lips a little longer. “I would never do something so crazy. And I might make a good salary, but I’m not wasting that money on getting rid of something I also paid money for.”
“Good.” You kiss him softer than previously. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Law helps you lie down again when your legs go around his hips, ankles locking together.
He lines himself up, about to ask you another one of his stupid questions, stopping himself when he sees you squinting at him.
“Got it. Zipping my mouth shut,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate you asking,” you clarify, seeing the creases in his worry lines. “But if there’s something I don’t want, I will tell you. Trust me?”
That seems to work, because you can see his lungs relax behind his chest. “I trust you.”
Readjusting your legs, he enters you slowly, swallowing the way you keen with a deep kiss. Your hands find his face, fingers pressing into the back of his head until he’s all the way in.
He doesn’t start moving right away, waiting for you to open your eyes and for your breathing to even out. The tension in your muscles eases, and you look up at him through hooded but clear eyes.
Law presses a kiss against your jaw as he pulls out slightly and then back in, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of something more than his two fingers. Your legs stay around his waist, though one hand remains under your knee to take off some of the pressure.
You nod your head slightly and he takes the hint, but first he grabs one of the smaller pillows on your bed and places it under your hips. The angle causes you to clench around him, and Law has to grip the sheets tightly before he thrusts again.
He picks up the pace and you let your hands fall behind you, one reaching up to grab at the headboard. Law moves so that his body is over yours, intertwining his fingers with the one hand of yours that’s on the bed.
When you squeeze his hand, he looks at you with concern. “Faster, please. And…” You inhale sharply as he listens immediately. “Vibrator’s in the drawer.”
Law lets go of your leg to fumble in the open drawer, finding the device easily enough. He recognises its shape by now, which would make him laugh if he didn’t want to get hit in the head in the middle of sex.
“I can see you snickering, asshole.” Law’s attention snaps back to you, increasing his pace once again. “What’s so fucking funny?” you heave.
He presses the vibrator into your hand. “Knew what it was without looking.”
“Okay fair enough that is kinda funny,” you grin, one hand moving between your legs, the other coming off the headboard and reaching for Law’s.
His body is almost entirely draped over yours, and the talking grinds to a halt as his hand digs into your hip, almost bruising, thrusting into you with determination.
Vibrator against your clit, every sensation is heightened, even that of his mouth sucking against your collarbone. If feels fucking amazing, the right amount of pressure happening everywhere, and you’re close again.
With the hand that’s holding his, you guide it to your breast, forcing him to squeeze with you. He does as you ask, and the spring in your gut is wound too tightly to keep together.
You let go, coming with heavy breaths, and he buries his face in your neck, biting down on your shoulder when he feels you clench around him again, unable to hold back any longer himself.
Law feels your legs go lax around his hips and turns you both onto your sides as the high wears off. His face remains under your chin, nose pressed to the bite he’s left.
When he feels your hands in his hair, he raises his head, looking at you in a post-coital haze. You move the hair stuck to his forehead.
“I hope you’re ready to explain the bite-mark on my sweet spot to the ER staff,” you joke, enjoying how his face turns red as he notices just how hard he bit you.
His fingers trace over it gently, making sure it doesn’t hurt when he touches it. You face him with determination, knowing what you asked of him and enjoying the consequences of having your request met.
Law pulls out, padding out of the bedroom to grab a washcloth, cleaning you up with another kiss to your forehead. You’re wearing his shirt when he returns, stretched out across the bed on your stomach, looking like a dead body at a crime scene.
You’ve told him multiple times it’s a comfortable position. He doesn’t believe it, but if you want to risk your back health, at least Roronoa knows his way around spines
He climbs in and drags you over to him, sitting back against the headboard. Law leans back, allowing you to shuffle into a more comfortable position. If he’s honest, despite being in your bed like this, he can’t say anything has really changed between you.
The thought makes him smile, because transitions like this rarely go this smoothly. If he was a man of faith, he’d look at it as a sign.
“Why do you like me?” he asks, more curious than anything at how quickly the relationship between you shifted.
You tilt your head at him, considering. “We understand each other.” He’s looking at you weirdly and it’s freaking you out, so you poke his cheek. “What? Too sappy for you? I can yell at you instead.”
Law leans down and kisses you with so much force you have to grab onto him to avoid being pushed down, confused about what’s suddenly come over him.
“That’s a good answer. Kind of makes me jealous I wasn’t the first one to say it,” he chuckles, pulling you back up into a sitting position, fiddling with the neckline of his shirt on you.
“I don’t know what to tell you. If you’re gonna be with me, you have to get used to not being the smartest person in the room anymore,” you grin.
Seeing you smile like that only makes him want to kiss you more, which he does, repeatedly, even when you’re begging him to stop through a fit of giggles because his goatee starts to tickle.
You look at the intern that tried to take out a breathing tube on their own for the first time without supervision on a real patient, saying absolutely nothing.
They’re getting stupider every year, as well as cockier, so your death stare has become more refined over the years as well. It’s still working, because as of now the intern in front of you is begging for an escape.
Saying anything would ruin the intimidation, so you continue to stick with silence, waiting patiently for an apology to go along with the bumbling explanation from earlier. The words ‘I’m sorry’ haven’t come out of their mouth yet, when it should’ve been the first thing.
“You’re meant to apologise,” comes a cold voice, a hand resting on the intern’s shoulder. The fear in their eyes multiplies tenfold, and you have to hold back a snicker.
You shift your body, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “You heard your Chief. Now are you going to recognise your mistake and own up to it like any other self-respecting physician?”
“I’m sorry!” they burst out, practically bending over and bowing. “I didn’t mean it, I really thought I could do it, I'm sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“Okay, alright, take a breath,” you sigh, pulling them upright and getting them a cup of water from the cooler you’re standing next to. “The idea is to get you to not repeat a mistake, rather than berating yourself all day.”
They sniff, nodding to show they’ve heard your words, so you walk away to join Law by the nurses’ station, glancing back at the intern worriedly.
Law knocks his shoulder into yours. “It doesn’t feel good, but it needs to be done. Being a doctor means holding life in your hands, and even taking a breathing tube out wrong is dangerous.”
“Yeah, I know. It sucks ‘cause I remember being in their position and being desperate for a taste of surgical life, but that’s not how you go about getting it.”
“They get it together eventually. Look at me: I’m Chief of Surgery at New World hospital.”
You look him over with interest. “Are you saying that if I look back in your records that I’ll find you were the shittiest intern to train?”
“Oh, no, I am incredibly gifted and talented, always have been.” You smack him on the upper arm. “I was mouthy, though. Everyone interning with me was sick of me.”
“You’re still mouthy, but I like that about you. It means you’re comfortable with someone and you’re no longer the silent, broody image you present,” you say, tugging on one of his earrings.
Law swats your hand away, before leaning down to kiss you without warning. You shove him off with burning cheeks, since he knows you haven’t agreed to PDA in the hospital yet. In fact, you’ve been vehemently against it for the time being.
He grabs a hold of your hand so you can’t walk away. “Everyone already knows, you know? As soon as Nami won the betting pool it was all over the hospital.”
“Well, at least we know our boss doesn’t care. Although, is that good or bad?” you frown, unsure of how it is to be cheered on towards a sexual relationship so your boss can win a large sum of money.
“Good for me,” he smiles, kissing you again much to your chagrin, your scary reputation with the interns definitely going down by the second.
When he pulls away, you’re more than aware of the nurses staring at you. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Lying is a sin.” He pushes a bunch of files into your hands then, ones that you know he’s been avoiding. “Now, since you asked me to play favourites, can you review all of those?”
You shove them right back at him, backing away slowly, shaking your head. “You don’t want me messing up your very important chiefly duties.”
Law shakes his head, reshuffling his files that he’s already gone through, letting the nurse know that they need to be delivered to Nami by the end of the day since he’s already two days late on them.
He watches you catch up with a few other doctors in the hallway when he’s done, still in awe at how well you integrated yourself into the hospital. He remembers when he first started here and how everyone tip-toed around each other, keeping to their lanes.
It’s good that things have changed since that day, and despite his initial hesitation with every new employee, he can’t help but admit to caring about all of them—although it’s not something he’s said out loud and never will no matter how many buttons they try to push to get him to talk.
But you won’t push his buttons. You won’t ask him how he actually feels. (We understand each other.) For the first time, he can appreciate that just as much as his friends’ pestering.
Alabasta is practically full when Law walks in after his shift, paramedics and other first responders scattered between the hospital staff.He’s not surprised at the amount of people, given that Luffy’s birthdays have always been grand affairs.
His eyes scan the room, trying to hunt down a familiar face anywhere. Eventually, he spies Ikkaku and you with her, a row of empty shots between you. Law takes a deep breath, mentally preparing for the hangover he’ll have to help your nurse tomorrow.
You wave at him frantically when you see him walking over, too giggly to speak properly, and Law takes in the lime wedges and salt on the table now that he’s closer. He would’ve preferred you were drunk on vodka.
Law acknowledges Ikkaku with a nod of his head, which doesn’t work for her because in the next instance he’s being pulled into a bone-crushing hug against his will.
“Chief!” she screams in his ear, still somehow quieter than all the noise in the bar. “You’re here!”
He gently strokes her head and eases her off of him. “I said I’d come, didn’t I? Although I don’t know how I feel about half of my medical staff being here over the hospital.”
“Relax,” you tell him, tugging him onto the chair next to you. “Everything is in safe hands and as soon as I’m sober I’ll be reporting for duty.”
Your attempt at a salute gets you whacked in the eye by your own hand. Law rolls his eyes, knowing very well that you will not be ‘reporting for duty’, but rather curled up in bed.
“No more tequila,” he frowns, expecting you to fight back. You instead raise your hands in surrender, too tired from all the alcohol to argue.
“Party’s almost over anyway,” Ikkaku says, shrugging on her coat, very clearly unaware of how rowdy everyone still is and how early in the night it is. Even the cake hasn’t come out yet.
Your brows knit together before Law can say anything. “Are you going home on your own? Ikkaku, you shouldn’t. You can spend the night at ours.”
“My roommate is picking me up.” She gives both you and Law a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for drinking yourself to death with me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Chiefs!”
You laugh at her promoting you to Chief of Surgery in a single sentence, and even more so at the implication that you and Law would be sharing the position. You lean against his back, propping your chin on his shoulder.
“You said ‘ours’.” Law gets a look of confusion from you. “You said ‘ours’ when you were giving Ikkaku a place to spend the night. But the apartment is yours.”
He watches you avoiding his gaze, pouting to the side. “I mean, you’re there all the time anyway, so it’s basically our place. You can tell me if I make you come over too much, you know?”
Law draws your face back towards him, adjusting his seat so that your knees are touching. “Actually, it’s making me consider if I need to keep paying my own lease.”
That statement seems to sober you up abruptly with the way your back straightens and you look at him as though he’s just grown ears and a tail. Law worries he’s overstepped, that you’re not ready for—
You’re pulling him into a kiss before he can spiral further, and even though you taste like cheap alcohol, he kisses you back without hesitation.
“Move in with me,” you whisper, thumb tracing over his bottom lip while you cup his face. “If that’s what you’re suggesting, then I’m asking you to move in with me. If-If you want to.”
“Well, I did already start moving in some of my clothes a few weeks ago. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”
“Eh, waited for you to bring it up. But I’m glad you’re on board,” you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your nose against his. “Don’t steal my surgery notes, though.”
Law rolls his eyes, kissing you again. “If I wanted to, I would’ve done it by now. Your notes leave something to be desired.”
“Lying is a sin.” But you’re smiling when you say it, and Law decides that even if he isn’t a man of faith, that first threat you sent his way was the biggest sign he’s ever had sent his way.
He’s brought back to the present when you’re waving your hand in front of his face, face all scrunched together as you try and figure out why he’s drifted off.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Law says, tracing a stray eyelash off your cheek.
Your lips squeeze together in a smile. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”
“Not even an OR, wrist deep in a chest?”
You suck in a sharp breath, pretending to debate it. “You make a good point…”
Law laughs, kissing you through it with the image of doing this over and over again, in an apartment labelled as ‘ours’ .